Children of the Harvest
by Sadistic Shadow
Summary: Set to a popular Mother Goose rhyme, this story delves into the pasts of 7 controversial Harvest Moon characters, and explains what made them them. Please RR! [AN: Complete!]
1. Foreword

A/N: Hmm…This is really an intriguing idea! Delving into the childhood of 7 HM characters, who are perfectly compatible with the 'children' in the nursery rhyme. BTW, this is a mix of HM64 and BTN…I really, really hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I'll keep this short and sweet. Mother Goose owns the nursery rhyme, Natsume and Nintendo/Sony own the rights to Harvest Moon. I own nothing but the actual story…

Day's Children

Foreword and Prologue

Monday's Child is fair of face

Tuesday's Child is full of grace

Wednesday's Child is full of woe

Thursday's Child has far to go

Friday's Child is loving and giving

Saturday's Child works hard for a living

And the Child that is born on the Sabbath Day

Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.


	2. Monday's Child

Day's Children

Monday's Child

[Is Full of Grace]

I sat on the edge of my bed, reminiscing about days long past. I'm fairly young, and often considered an air-head, but I've experienced more than you'll ever know. 

On Spring 22nd, 17 years ago, I was born in this rural farming community to Lillia and Parsley. My dad's always been a vagabond, traveling here and far in search of rare flowers. He comes home sometime before the Goddess Festival, and leaves in early Fall. 

I used to get so mad…You see, my mom, Lillia, is really sick. In fact, she's dying. I would sit on my bed at night, just like this, and wonder. Wonder how he could bare the guilt of leaving her in such a time of need just to go look for some flowers.

Now, I realize those trips were, and still are, more than a pleasure outing. He was searching for a cure. The special flowers were just a bonus. Now, more than ever, I looked forward to his return, to see if he had found the cure yet. At the same time, I almost wish he would stay gone. I know my mom needed him, but she needed the cure even more…

Everytime I see the way my mom raises her head from her pillow to gaze at him when he steps into their bedroom for the first time after returning from a trip, I hurt. Her gaze is full of untold love and devotion, but of worldly pains, and lack of hope. 

As I pray for a miracle when he makes his return tomorrow, my thoughts began to drift back to my childhood…

A seven-year-old Popuri skipped down the sidewalk, her pretty pink curls bouncing up and down. Grinning cheekily, she let loose a squeal as she spotted Elli, her best friend.

On the outside, she was just your average little girl. Cute, smart, friendly, and happy. However, as the saying goes, appearances can be deceiving. 

Inside, this rare beauty was suffering emotional turmoil. It's hard to deal with knowing someone we love is going to die at _any_ age, but when you're still a child; still in the age of innocence, that burden can sometimes be more than we can bear. 

Her mother, Lillia, was dying. Of some newly discovered disease. Now, young Popuri must deal with the hardships of everyday life…alone. Her father, Basil, was out in search of a cure for her mother's condition, so she had no one to show her report cards to, no one to read her bed time stories, no one to talk to when the school day was out…

Perhaps that was when she began to take on a bittersweet attitude. Oh, sure, she seemed all right. What she felt inside, however, was an entirely different story…

"Elli!" Popuri hollered, as she clamored up to her best friend, eagerly wrapping her arms around the other girl's slowly growing waistline. "I missed you! I'm so glad you're better!" 

"I missed you too, Poppy!" Elli exclaimed, using her favorite nickname for her companion. "I loved the card you sent me…All the sparkles…Oh, it was so pretty, it reminded me of a cupcake!"

Popuri giggled. "You always think about food…I wish I could think about one thing with such a passion…"

"Any news from your Dad?"

"No…Mom's getting sicker and sicker. She can barely stand nowadays. The doctor said she'll be lucky if she lives a few more years," the young child began to tear up. 

Elli patted her back, and squeezed her hand. "One day…Things will get better…"

"I hope so," Popuri returned sadly. 

Something, a miracle, if you will, seemed to be keeping Lillia alive. For what, who knows? Five years later, Popuri still isn't good at surpressing her emotions. Older, and wiser, she begins to learn more about her mother. Every evening she'd creep stealthily into her mother's room, and sit on the end of her bed. Her mother would smile kindly, and tell her stories about days long past. Better days…

"And so he asked me to marry him," Lillia smiled softly, recalling to her daughter the story of Basil and herself. "Of course, I accepted! I had my doubts, of course, but still being fairly young and innocent, I couldn't refuse that dashing young man's offer. Things worked out better than I ever expected…Besides this awful illness, that is…"

Popuri barely allowed herself to breathe. She knew she wouldn't have forever to be with her mom, so of course she enjoyed her company, and liked the stories even more, but she was almost afraid if she batted an eye, or breathed, her mother would be gone. 

"I can't wait til I get married," Popuri finally spoke, admitting it with a blush. "I'll have this big fancy wedding, with lots of flowers! Daddy can walk me down the isle and…" she abruptly broke off, looking guilty, knowing her mother would never live to see it.

Sleek teardrops trickled down Popuri's cheeks, lighting on her salty lips. Licking them away with a vengeance, she whispered, I'm sorry,"

"Ssh, my dear," Lillia reached out a frail hand to run it through her daughter's lovely pink locks. "It's not your fault! It's not anybody's!" 

"Isn't it God's? For making this happen to you?" asked a watery-eyed Popuri between sniffles.

Lying back on her pillow, Lillia's eyes fluttered closed. "No, hun, don't ever think that. Though trying to figure out his exact reasons is quite baffling, it's all a part of his plan…Now go get washed up, say your prayers, and go to bed,"

"Ok, mom…" Popuri left with a somber face to take a bath, and change into her pj's. Appearing in her bedroom, in her baby pink and white striped long pajamas, she slipped under the covers in her fruffy, flowery scented bed. 

"Now I lay me down to sleep, pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I die before I wake, pray the Lord my soul to take," she uttered the traditional children's prayer. Hesitantly, she glanced around her room, almost as if she felt someone was watching her. "Dead God…If it's your will…I'm asking you…No, I'm begging you…Please save my mommy…"

With that, her eyelids fluttered closed, and she drifted into a light, yet uneasy sleep. 

Popuri, while becoming a bit worried, never lost faith that her Heavenly Father would one day answer her prayers. So the days passed, eventually turning to days, then weeks, then months, and then finally years… 

Back to the present we are, while Popuri is now sitting on her blue-cushioned window seat, staring out the window into the cool autumn twilight, watching the changing leaves fall occasionally to the ground.

I really ought to get some sleep, I thought with a sigh. I'll want to get up bright and early tomorrow morning to pounce my father when he walks in that front door…I know I'm setting myself up for heartbreak, like I do every year, but you can't help but wonder…

Maybe he did find it. Maybe things will be ok…But then a cold harsh reality wakes me up. Like it does everytime. _There_ _is no cure. _

Mother will never be cured. She will not live long enough to meet a boyfriend of mine, let alone see me marry. She won't get the chance to see her and my father's dream come true, which was to spread flowers all across the land.

Walking bare footed across the chilly floor, I gratefully sank into my bed, and pulled the covers up over my head. I never could find away to chase such thoughts out of my head, and away from my dreams, and tonight would be no exception. I couldn't escape my cruel reality, even in my slumber. 

In the morning, a gentle sun-shine bathed my bed in it's warmth. I sprang upright into the sitting position. Sticking my nose into the air, and sniffing hard, I caught scent of my father's familiar cologne. 

Something wasn't right. My father _always_ comes to wake me up if I'm still sleeping. Not even bothering to change out of my silky white nightgown, I race from my room, and stumble into my mothers.

My father is kneeled down beside her bed, holding her hand, which is resting gently on her stomach, tightly. Both of their eyes are closed, and both are deadly still. Only my father's lips are moving, signifying he's praying.

After standing there in silence for a few moments, realization hits me. My mother must have passed away while she was sleeping. Creeping across the floor, I kneeled near my father, looking almost in horror at my mother. Her face is pale, and lifeless, and she looks a little stiff.

My father's lips stopped moving. He opened his eyes, and removed his hat, which had been pulled far down over his dark brown orbs, and stared straight into my light red colored ones. 

"Your mother," he croaked, his voice dry and cracked. He opened his mouth, to say more, but found himself struggling for words.

"Don't talk," I whispered, looking down at the ground.

I felt his strong arms wrap around me, and gather me into a hug. Holding him back, I sobbed into his shoulder. "It's all a part of the Lord's plan though, isn't it…" I whispered. 

I felt his body shift as he nodded. He hooked his index finger under my chin, and lifted it up, so once again I was gazing into his oculars. Sweet kisses from 'Daddy' brushed my cheeks, and as the sun pouring in from the window hit my face, lighting up my whole body, I happened to glance in the mirror.

With a bit of shock, I realized, for the first time, how much like my mother I looked…

A/N: Well, there's Popuri's story. It didn't come out how I planned, but I'm still quite proud of it…Even if you're not a Popuri fan [which I personally am not], I hope you can still get the value out of this chapter. After writing this, even though it's just fictional, I view Miss Lady Lovely Locks [My nickname for her XD…Does anyone besides me still remember that card game/cartoon, or whatever it was, Lady Lovely Locks? O.o;;] in a whole different perspective. Once again, I hope you enjoyed. Stay updated and don't miss Chapter 2, Tuesday's Child.


	3. Tuesday's Child

A/N: Copy and paste this into your URL bar, and press enter! http://quiz.ravenblack.net/blood.pl?1083838011 Come on, you know you want to….

Children of the Harvest

Tuesday's Child

"Karen, Karen, Karen! What are we going to do with you?"

The 19-year-old paused, her sniffling subsiding. Reaching a hand up to tuck her platinum blonde bangs back into the mainstream of her mocha colored hair, she rested her head on her mother Sasha's shoulder.

Closing the lids to her emerald green oculars, she mumbled to herself, "Things weren't always this way," as she desperately clung to her thoughts of the past.

"Come on, everybody! Get out on the floor!" a woman's high-pitched voice sang as Naoki's Dynamite Rave began to blast.

7-year-old Karen was already a DDR (Dance Dance Revolution) champion. Orbs iced over, a symbol of intense concentration, she gracefully stomped on the designated arrows on the dance pad as they scrolled on the screen. Boldo, an African-American DDR character with a purple afro danced on the screen along with her. 

As the song came to an end, Karen swiftly executed the last group of combos, and watched as her score totaled on the screen. An 'A' she noticed. A few thousand points less than normal. Her lips curling in disgust, the child muttered, "Pathetic,"

Going to slam the green-square button on the machine so she could choose the song for the Final Stage round, Karen paused, and glanced around.

The usual crowd wasn't surrounding her, and for that she was glad. Karen didn't like the attention. With all the eyes on her, she felt clumsy, and ready for failure. 

She never did- fail, that is. The lowest thing she had ever received, even as a novice, was a 'B'. She _did_ do worse than normal with spectators, pressure she supposed.

But where's my father? Karen couldn't help but wonder, her eyes shifting around the tavern. Her father and her shared a special bond, and she loved him dearly. He always came to watch her dance…So where was he now?

She spotted him, and her eyes narrowed in anger; even jealousy. He was off in some corner, getting drunk, visiting with his friends, and flirting with pretty tourists. "Disgusting…"

Leaving the machine, without even bothering to finish her game, she slipped out of the tavern unnoticed, save a pair of ever-watchful eyes. 

Six years later…

Her father was an official drunkard. Over the years he had become more and more obsessed with booze, and had even taken to wasting the family's hard-earned money on it.

This just, well…to put it bluntly, pissed Karen off. Though Karen herself was…quite a alcoholic, even a this…young age (Ehe -.-; Shut up Seta - A.N.). She didn't go around getting drunk and blowing money away like there was no tomorrow now did she? (Again, shut up ¬.¬)

Her father and her mostly ignored each other, but they occasionally got into frays. Now, Karen crept cautiously down the stairs, and began to exit the front door.

"Where are you going?" a curious voice inquired. 

Karen froze, and slowly spinned on her heels, and came face-to-face with the vineyard worker Kai. He had only been hired a few weeks ago. She had completely forgotten he slept on the couch. "Nowhere," she muttered curtly.

"Look," he put his hands in the air. "I'm not going to rat on you. I just asked a simple question,"

Karen eyed him. Why did he even want to know? Finally, mentally shrugging, she replied offhandedly, "To the beach, most likely,"

"Oh," there was a long pause. "Can I come to?"

"No!" Karen snapped, and glared at him. Just who did he think he was?

"I was just asking," Kai mumbled despondently. "I just thought we could be friends,"

Friends. Hmph. People have confirmed her suspicions time and time again there was no such thing as friend. "Yah, well, think again," the teen huffed. "Now if you don't mind, I'll be going," she called over her shoulder as she fled.

The beach…There was something mysterious about it that drew her back, time and time again. It was sort of her safe haven, her little bubble that no one could penetrate. Safe in my own skin so nobody wins, she recalled the lyrics to a familiar song.

Maybe it was the beautiful serenade of the crashing waves lapping onto the beach, or maybe it was the chirps of the crickets. Maybe it was the soft scraping noises the palmetto fronds and other bushes and trees made as they scraped against the jagged rocks. Or maybe it was a mix of it all, jumbled together to form some sort of melody. Whatever it was, it made Karen feel safe…And somewhat special. 

It was in the lone solitude that the beach provided that Karen danced. Under the light of the grave-faced moon, she showed off her unsurpassable skill. And only the bugs and the fish were around to see it, for Karen never danced in public anymore.

A rustle in the bushes captured the attention of her acute ears. Her limbs fell stiff as she turned around to see where the noise came from. A sheepish Kai stepped out from the bushes. 

Karen's face turned beet-red, and she looked like she was about to explode. "What did you think you were doing?" she hissed, more than a hint of malice edging into her voice. 

"I don't know," Kai quietly answered, shrugging his shoulders limply. 

"This isn't Broadway, you know," she put her hands on her hips.

"Yah…I know…I just…"

"Just what? Just wanted to be friends?"

"Yah…"

"Well, go make friends somewhere else. God knows why you'd want any…"

Kai paused. "You don't want any friends?" he asked, clearly taken-aback. 

"No," Karen snapped for the second time that evening. "Not anymore,"

"…You've been hurt, huh?"

"No!" Karen said quickly. "It's just that…Just that…Just that," she trailed off, knowing she was beaten.

"You're not alone, ya?" Kai frowned wistfully as he bent down to pick up a piece of driftwood that had been washed up on the shore. Winding up his arm, he let it go, and watched it soar off into the horizon and plop down somewhere in the ocean, and his warm chocolate oculars, so vibrant with a passion for life, he captured her gaze. "You…We could both change that," he suggested, idly scratching a bug bite on his leg.

"…"

"So will you? Be my friend, that is?"

"…"

Kai glanced at her sharply, a crisp frown on his face dripping with bittersweet emotion. "Be that way," he blandly said, as he turned to walk away. 

"Fine…"

He turned back around. "Excuse me?"

"I said fine…I'll be your friend…" she growled as she whisked by him.

Kai watched as her angelic figure stormed off, a small smile on his face. He had a chance for a new life…A new friendship and maybe…Future love…

Seven years later; back the present…

"It's not my fault!" Karen exclaimed out of the blue. "He started it!" 

Sasha lifted her eyes heavenwards. "I'm sure he did…But you can't take the bait like that! You need to learn to control yourself…!"

Karen stared bitterly at her mom. How dare she even say that! Her mom knew fully well what her dad was like…And Karen was _not_ about to become a submissive little bitch. "Whatever…" she whisked off. 

Kai was lounging on the couch, reading a magazine. He looked up when Karen came down the stairs, and grinned, setting the reading material down. "Hey, Karen," he greeted her warmly. 

"Hi, Kai," she sighed warily.

Kai frowned inwardly. For seven damn years she had resisted any and all of his approaches. Tonight was the night he made his final move. If she didn't accept him…Well, he didn't know what do if it came to that…But he was sure he'd think of something.

"So, umm, Karen…Wanna go to the beach or something?"

Karen looked over, slightly surprised. "I suppose," she said cautiously. 

Kai grinned cheekily. "That's great!" he tried not to sound too enthusiastic, but to no avail. 

Karen raised a brow, but said nothing. "Lemme go get my sandals," she said. "Wait outside…"

"Alright!" 

Karen shook her head laughing as she closed the door behind him. What a goober…It was cute in a way though…

A nasty thought crossed her mind. She could lock him out, and then go up to bed…

But then, remembering that happy-slappy look on his face when she agreed to go with him, she couldn't bring herself to do such a horrible thing. 

Flip--flopping out the door, she noticed Kai a bit up the path, standing under a large oak tree. Her lips curled into a smile, which she didn't even notice.

"Heeeey!" she waved, and jogged over.

"Heh, heya," he waved back. "Ready to go?" 

"Yup,"

He grabbed her hand, much to her shock, and merrily led the way. Squirming a bit uncomfortably at first, she finally relaxed as they made it to the nexus outside the vineyard. "Let's go somewhere else!" 

Karen's eyes widened. "The only reason I agreed to come was cuz' it was the beach," she pouted with protest.

"Yah, yah, we can go there in a bit!" Kai grinned.

Just what are you up to? Karen wondered to herself, cocking her head to the side, examining his moon-struck features. 

Kai chuckled to himself as he began to jog, and then run, his sandals pounding the moist dirt. Karen huffed to keep up with him, it being harder for her for she was being drug behind him. Finally 'catching up

She started to giggle a bit herself. 

Maybe things were ok after all…


	4. Wednesday's Child

A/N: Thanks for those reviews, Saikono! I was getting kind of pissed [and still kinda am] because I just _know _there's more people reading this than the number of reviews I'm getting. And, I'm not sure if you knew…But when it says 'gay' it means the happy, merry sort of 'gay'…

Now, I know I'm sposed' to be writing for myself, rather than getting upset about the number of reviews that I'm getting, as I so often preach myself, but…THIS IS RIDICULOUS…

I'm spoiled now, but I'm _not_ expecting the amount of reviews I got for Vagabond…Yet…Grr…Just review! Get it? Got it? **Good!**

Children of the Harvest

Wednesday's Child

Pulling my cap down over my eyes to mask my emotions, I sat in the corner of the barn, hugging my knees to my chest and rocking back and forth.

It's been eighteen long years since my mother passed away. I had only been five at the time, but I remember everything quite clearly.

My father, Doug, quietly crept into my room one evening, holding my one-year-old sister Ann in his 

Arms. "Gray,"

I had looked up from playing with my blocks and a set of animal figurines. "Yes, daddy?" my voice asked innocently, my eyes shimmering curiously. 

He sat down on the bed, still cradling Ann. Quietly, he reached out a hand and motioned for me to come to him.

Approaching him cautiously, I was a bit scared by now. Looking up earnestly into his somber, grave face, I inwardly wondered what was wrong. Yes, I had been a very perceptive child…

"You know how mommy's been sick?" his usually proud voice croaked in a near whisper.

"…Yah,"

"Well, son, I don't really know how to break this to you…"

I just stared at him, very frightened. I wanted to burst out, _'What happened? Where's mommy?_', but for some reason, I didn't.

"Gray, your mother…She…She…" he began to choke up, trying to find the right words. I think my little mind already fathomed what had happened, however.

So instead of bursting out into tears like any normal kid would have done, I continued to stare, even as he gave me the finishing blow, "She…God called for her, son,"

So that was it, huh? She just had to go…I wanted to kick, scream, or even throw a tantrum. This must be…Daddy must have made a mistake. But…he hadn't.

I never cried over her. Not once, not ever. I felt like it, I wanted to…I honestly did. Yet the tears never came. 

I think my dad despised me for that from that moment on. For never shedding a tear. I always saw some sort of scorn in his eyes, or sneer on his lips when we were alone.

He loved Ann though. She was Daddy's little princess. Don't think, even for a minute, that I'm jealous. I have never been, or never will be. She deserves all of his attention and praise. She hadn't even known her mother but she still felt remorse. What was I? Was I so inhuman that I couldn't even grieve properly?

Continuing to rock back and forth, I thought about later in my life, trying to find some evidence to support my theory…An all out conclusive, 'My dad hates me.'

Ten-year-old Gray silently strode across the field, livestock-brush in hand. He was going to complete his morning chores before his dad woke up. Maybe then he'd be pleased.

No such luck. Lovingly, he brushed one of the cows, and glanced over at the house before moving onto the next bovine. A few moments after completing his task of brushing all twelve of them, a familiar voice boomed, "What the hell do you think you're doing, boy?"

Sighing, as I turned to face my father, who was running towards me, I wondered what I had done wrong this time.

Glaring at me, he snatched the brush out of my hands. "This is the _sheep_ brush! It's not for cows!"

Yah. Whatever. They were the same thing, and he knew it. He just wanted an excuse to quarrel with me.

I guess he sensed the defiance in my expression, for he slapped me across the face before retreating back to the house. Shame wasn't the only thing that stung and stained my cheeks. 

Silently, I re-did my chores so my father wouldn't bitch [although, knowing him, he'd find something to complain about], and set to work on a completely different project.

By then, it was the middle of the afternoon, so I headed in for a quick lunch. I sidled up to the counter, which Ann was behind. "Howdy," she winked playfully, but she frowned, and reached out to touch my face.

Wincing as she patted it, I averted my gaze. "Gray!" she exclaimed, shocked. "Your cheek is all red! Looks like you got scratched too,"

So that's what the stinging was about…

"It's nothing," I hoarsely whispered. "Nothing at all,"

"Stay right there, mister!" Ann scolded. She may be four years younger than I, but she sure liked to mommy me. A few moments later she emerged with a bottle of peroxide and a cotton ball.

The room temperature liquid felt icy cold as she applied it to my minor wound. It stung even more. Damn it to hell…"Thank you…"

Washing her hands after treating me, she put the stuff in a nearby cabinet. "No problem. Whatcha want for lunch?"

"Just a sandwich will do," I sighed. 

"The usual?"

The usual must mean ham and Muenster Cheese. "Sure,"

As she made it for me, I sat down at the kitchen table. "Why does dad give you so much trouble?" she inquired.

"…"

"Hey, I was just asking!" she defended herself before falling silent. A few minutes later, "…I mean, there's obviously a reason…"

"…" I let her babble on.

"I suppose I should ask him one day," she mused.

"Don't you dare,"

"See! You _do_ know the reason! Come on, Gray, tell me. Don't you think I have _some_ right to know?"

"Not really,"

"…Argh," she growled, frustrated. 

"It doesn't concern you," I snapped, a bit harshly. Snatching my newly-made sandwich up, I stuffed a humongous bite into my mouth so I wouldn't have to say anything more, and fled.

Maybe she _did_ have a right to know. Maybe. But…No, forget it. She didn't. It didn't concern her, so there was no reason to drag her into it. Case closed. I'd tell her someday…Maybe. So many maybe's. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Pfft…Whatever. 

Once again I was in the corner of the barn, contemplating. I savagely tore of bits of my sandwich and wolfed it down. 

Some things would just never change. It's about time I stopped fooling myself and realized that. Dad will never accept me. Things will never be right. 

The more I thought about it, the more it angered me, and the more it forced me to think about mom. And you know what?

I cried…

A/N: Whew, my shortest for this story, I believe. But oh well, quality over quantity, ne? Go ahead, click that nice little 'Submit Review' button lest I remind you again…


	5. Thursday's Child

A/N: How about no one blames me for the extreme lateness of this update, and I can't blame you readers for the lack of reviews. Deal? I will offer you a small explanation. As I have stressed over and over again, I am _constantly_ getting new story ideas. And after awhile, it gets to the point where that if I don't start them, I can't write anything. That led to two more stories I must do in the Love Hina section [::points to her list of uploaded stories::] as well as this one, my other HM one, and a Zelda story I have lurking around in my mind. So yah…Just…Deal with it O_O!

Children of the Harvest

Thursday's Child

Argh…Another pang of pain shooting through my stomach, just what I need. Guess I better take a break and get some lunch from Aunty. I've been working here, at my Aunt, Uncle, and Cousin's vineyard for hrm…Six months, give or take a few? 

I am married to the lovely Ann, am surrounded by friends, on and off the workplace, and have a generally happy life. However, my life wasn't always apple pie and whip crème. There was a time which I, Cliff, hated everyone and trusted no one.

A little over seven months ago, I was a vagabond, someone who traveled around from city to city, searching for my purpose in life. Or something like that. You get the point, I hope. 

Now, I had an icy glass of lemonade in one hand and a ham and cheese sandwich in the other. Leaning on the whitewashed fence post, I began to enjoy my meal. 

A lot of people would scoff at this, I realize. What's so special about a damn sandwich? Well…I guess they're the ones who already forgetting that a little over a half a year ago, I had no clue where my next meal was coming from. So yes, I am _very_ thankful. 

It's times like these, where I'm enjoying the simple pleasures of everyday life, that I recall my life back in the other towns and cities. No one really knows…just what a tangled web…I used to weave. 

'They' approached me, silently, stealthily, from all sides. I was surrounded. There was no place to go. I backed up, into the wall, and slowly sunk to my bottom, cowering in the corner. For a moment, I believe I had successfully hidden myself in the shadows, but then the loud, pro-longed growl of my stomach gave me away.

I felt hands ripping at me, at my clothes, just tearing at me. I wanted to scream, but 'their' 'hands' if that's what you could call them, would have muffled it. Always the same…Those haunting, blood red, evil eyes…

I felt a sharp pain shoot through my leg. One of them, had twisted it, in a sickening angle, and was savagely gnawing on it. The next moment, my senses were a little dulled, as one of 'them' clubbed me over the head, with what, I do not know. 

I felt the cool metallic liquid leak down my face, staining my cheeks before it washed across my salty, but dry lips. A blast of cold air sent shivers down my spine, and a terrified moan escaped my throat. Tears spilled from my eyes, and they stung the cuts and scratches all over my body as they dripped down onto them.

The next moment, it felt like my entire insides were being ripped out, and knowing these vile 'things', they probably were. I kept my eyes squinched shut, knowing what was to come next.

Their screeching, singing, cries of victory. It was worse than nails on a chalkboard. My head began to throb, and then I blacked out. 

"Ungh…" my entire being was taken over my stiffness and soreness. I dared to open my eyes. I was lying, in the same place, as I had collapsed last night, with all my memories intact. I looked down at myself: no cuts, and no scratches. I felt my hair; it was a little oily, but not matted with blood. Just as I expected.

People laughed at me…Called me a freak. Or just plain out told me I belonged in a mental hospital. The evidence that I really was suffering attacks was far and few. But I was sure it was real…Very, _very_ sure. 

Nowadays, I just kept quiet about it, feigning innocence, like all along, it had been some joke.

'They' followed me everywhere I went. After I got chased out of one town, it's like 'they' were the baggage I didn't have. 'They' came with me. Everywhere.

And now…Yes, now must be a rather glorious time for 'them'. Because now…I felt 'their' presence in the day. It was almost as if 'they' were mocking me, trying to get me to cry out in fear, give up, if you will. Let people lock me away in a little padded cell…Where it was _always_ dark…Where 'they' could get me…whenever 'they' wanted. 

I'm sure I sound like a raving madman. Hell, I probably am. I never told Ann, Karen, or even Jack, about these encounters. In fact, I had even lied to them about the reasons why I never stayed in one place…

'They' had stopped making 'their' cameo appearances ever since I came to Flowerbud Village, so many would just…Assume that since I had found happiness, and a new life, my 'bad dreams' just dissipated 

Well, then explain to me…Why had I given up the good life I had, in my hometown, to travel around and be scorned by everyone, and pursued by those 'things'?

Who knows…Maybe I _am_ crazy. What am I going to see next, little green men from mars? Feh, pink elephants are more than likely….

Oh, look… No one told me…That the circus was passing through…

A/N: Chappie probably makes little or no sense. It kind of relates to the plot line of Vagabond, as far as times, working at the vineyard, and relationships with people go, but 'they' are definitely not in Vagabond .;

Oh yah…One more thing…If any of you even has the notion to make fun of Cliff: _Don't you dare_. You don't know…How it feels…To see things…Like that.

Please pleasure the little review button, and me, by clicking on it, and leaving me one… 


	6. Friday's Child

Cliff: Sane? I'm perfectly sane! Oh no, here come those flying monkeys…

A/N: Long time no update, eh? I know it's no excuse, but I've certainly come a long way since my days of N64 and Harvest Moon obsession. Getting over the likes of Dragonball Z and moving on to more sophisticated anime, as well as obtaining a Playstation 2 more than a year ago has also certainly slowed me down, as I have been plagued with the opposite of writers block. In fact, I fear I will never have the time to finish the fanfiction hosted in my profile in addition to the ones I have planned. But, knowing this is one of the easiest to knock off the list, I'm going to try. So sorry if it's not entirely up-to-par but keep in mind, it is the best I can do, considering the large amount of stress and pressure I am under. Additionally, I wonder how many of you will notice the new writing style I picked up sometime back? Added to that, I wonder why the font for previous chapter is so you-know-what-ing huge. 

Children of the Harvest

Friday's Child

Her pleasantly plump figure plopped down on the window seat near the entrance of the Flowerbud Village Bakery, chubby digits tracing the pattern left behind when multitudes upon multitudes of salty rain drops separated from the light drizzle and flung themselves at the glass window by which she sat. Heh, she mused, it was rather suicidal of those droplets. Not that she cared though; she had her own problems to deal with. 

Running an idle hand through her short, chestnut-colored hair, her downcast orbs of mahogany raised to greet Jeff, the head baker, who had just entered the room and slipped behind the counter. Silently standing, she carried herself over to his side, routinely reaching over the counter with a motherly tsk and straightening his apron and bow-tie, which always seemed to be lopsided. 

When he scratched the back of his head in embarrassment, spindly fingers weaving through the mass of inky, obsidian strands, Elli could not help but smile. Refraining from also reaching over and tweaking the end of his shiny black mustache, which always seemed to slightly twitch when its' owner was embarrassed, she turned swiftly on her heels to face the front door of the building. 

"It hasn't rained like this since..." she trailed off as she leaned back on the sturdy display case, carefully bringing her right knee up and clasping her hands over it. "...Since _he_ left,"

Jeff found himself frowning at the back of her head. By _he_, of course, she meant Jack; grandson of the deceased farmer who had stayed at the Auroch Ranch for several years. It was no secret that most of the town's eligible bachelorettes had fallen good and hard for him, Elli being no exception. And of course, this was a big problem for Jeff - who while attractive in his own rights, held nothing on Jack's sheer, sexy demeanor and handsome face - for he had been crushing on said young woman for several years now. 

Jack, despite his playboy-ish qualities, however, was a rather conservative fellow; in other words, a one-woman man. This had posed as a problem when all the girls had began to come onto him, for he could not bring himself to choose between them, risking losing his simple friendship with the others _and_ their hopeful beau's. 

And so, leaving the farm in charge of his best friend Cliff, who was sure to help it prosper and grow, he had fled Flowerbud Village one stormy spring morning, never to return again. Of course, everyone was crushed, but Elli particularly so, for she, having an unusually low self-esteem, felt herself to be solely responsible for his disappearance. 

In any case, Jeff found himself raising a tight fist to his mouth and clearing his throat. "He was a good guy," he returned, rather weakly, having lost his nerve at the last moment. But when she turned to him and flashed him the saddest gaze he had ever seen, his heart melted and he gathered his courage once more. "Why do you let him rule your thoughts - your heart, even - Elli? Especially when you know he will never come back" 

Something akin to irony pulled her thinly pressed lips into a sad, soul-wrenching smile as she shook her head, allowing her feathery, bobbed tresses to bounce up and down. "I don't quite know how to explain it, or even if I know myself," she confessed, "But I am quite sure - take no offense to this, mind you - that you would never understand,"

He sighed, at her unwillingness to open up to him, her cool brush-off with sugarcoated words. Casting his eyes to one of the larger windows, he took note that the muddy, puddle-filled streets were abandoned. Growing bold, he stepped out from behind the counter and advanced upon her. 

She eyed him warily; she trusted him completely, of course, but she could not help but wonder just what the man was up to. He paused, directly in front of her, allowing his eyes to sweep up her in one, swift motion, from the tip of her shiny brown boot to the tip of her dusty-colored hair. Then, he spun on his heels and circled her once, stopping when he was behind her. 

Not a word was exchanged between them for quite some time, with Jeff simply standing there behind her, quietly taking in her lilac-tinted scent, and Elli, stone-still, breath quite audible in their otherwise silent environment. 

Taking a cautious step forward, he reached out a wavering arm, allowing his index finger to separate from the others, tracing her spinal cord from its' beginning all the way down to the small of her back. Still, not a word was spoken and, taking this as a go-ahead, he closed to gap between them, his other arm snaking out from his side to encircle around her waist, embracing her from behind. Resting his chin and its' newly formed stubble atop on of her shoulders, he held her like this for quite awhile, taking bliss in the silence. 

However, when he supposed she finally became fully conscious of his actions and tensed beneath his touch, he decided it was time to break said silence and utter long unspoken words. "Elli..." he began, pacing his tone to sound methodical, deliberate. "You say I do not understand what an unrequited love feels like?" 

She nodded, dumbly, too shocked by these revelations to speak. It did not help that when she did this, his lips accidentally ended up brushing against her neck, causing her to suppress a shudder. "Well," he continued, "I most certainly do." And with that, he fell completely silent. 

Several more moments passed before Elli chose to respond; and when she did, her voice quivered, sounding quite close to tears. "My parents died when I was but a child, you know that, Jeff...I got passed around from relative to family friend, finally somehow ending up with you and your family,"

"Mmhmm," he nodded, in agreement, the soft, almost purr-like sound vibrating deep within his throat, in turn transferring the odd sensation to the dip in her shoulder, causing her to chuckle through her sadness, at the way it tickled. 

"Anyway," she reached up one apron clutching hand to dab at her eyes, hoping to clear her blurry vision, made so by salty tears which so reminded her of the drops of rain she had earlier observed. "Sorry about this," she ten proceeded to motion to herself, in reference to her crying.

"It's okay," he soothed, momentarily lifted his chin from her shoulder to shake his head. "Do continue,"

"Alright," she sighed, letting her apron fall out of her hot hands and back to its' right position. "Well, I suppose that when..." she hesitated, trying to put this next part as delicately as she could, "Your parents died, you could have just left me, huh? I mean...You're only a few years older than me, correct?"

"Yes," was his simple response. "Four, to be exact,"

"Yeah..." she trailed off, looking momentarily thoughtful before shaking her head to clear her muddled thoughts. "But anyway, you stayed with me. Took care of me with blind devotion, and when you came here, you brought me with you, giving me a job and somehow reuniting me with my grandmother,"

"Those were the days," Jeff smiled softly, lightly squeezing her in a comforting manner. "But go on,"

Elli wrenched herself free from his grasp and, like a true gentleman, Jeff made no move to keep her, assisting her in disentangling herself instead. But she made no move to flee, as he had at first expected. She merely folded her hands behind her back, bending slightly as she smiled radiantly up at him, "I guess I'm trying to say thanks," her cheeks were a-fluster. 

"You don't have to thank me," Jeff shook his head, fighting the urge to blush himself. "I mean, any decent person would have done the same,"

"No," her response was immediate, as she straightened herself and stared straight at him. "They wouldn't have..."

Not having the will to argue with her and, secretly absorbing her every word of praise, he merely averted his gaze with no small amount of meekness. "Anyway," she said, cheerfully, taking a step forward and pushing herself up on her tip-toes, shyly pecking the corner of his mouth, "I'll try to be more considerate of your...feelings...too, and remember that I _am_ loved!"

And with that, she bounced off to her room, leaving a very startled but ecstatic baker named Jeff to trace the wood-grained floor with the tip of his boot and mumble incoherently before fluttering happily over to the very window-seat Elli had earlier graced, absorbed in his own thoughts. 

A/N: Elli was the highlight of this chapter; she was Friday's child. The way this turned out pleased me so much, I have decided to keep the same continuity for the next chapter, where I was planning to do Jeff's story anyway. Truth be told, I'm not really an Elli fan at all, and actually, I kind of always seem to mock her, but...I like this, so what can I say. Keh. Anyway, I promise to get both Saturday's Child and Sabbath's Child out real soon. Not the previous...*drum-roll* Year and 16 days. 

Please Review! 


	7. Saturday's Child

She collapsed on her bed with a soft moan, gingerly rubbing at her sore wrists. The new shipment of books had come in that day, accompanied by the large shelves and cases she had ordered, and Maria had spent all day setting everything up. Some liked to claim she had the easiest job in the village, but she cared to differ. There was nothing easy about lifting fifty-plus pound boxes and hauling them about all day, after all.

On these days loneliness often befell her, at a right rapid pace. While it was necessary it be closed for any amount of work to get done, knowing this didn't help ease the feeling. For as much as the mousy young woman loved and dedicated herself to books, she couldn't exactly claim to enjoy being cooped up all day with no one to talk to.

Upon hearing a faint knock at her door, she sunk down further into her mattress, wishing whoever it was would just _go away_. It was her mother, as she had suspected. The older woman let herself into her daughter's room and made her way to Maria's bedside. All was silent for several moments and the librarian was thankful that she hadn't turned on the lights when she had first come in, as her mother finally sighed and left, assuming her to be asleep.

Knowing she was alone once more, she quietly sat up and groped about in the darkness. Her nimble digits located the object she was after in a matter of moments, and she was able to see again. Turning her attention to the small nightstand beside her bed, she fished out a small flashlight and the novel she was currently plowing through.

Reading far into the night, as she gratefully acknowledged the fact that she had tomorrow -- or perhaps she should say 'today' -- off, she attempted to gather her thoughts into something other than the current jumble before she -- predictably, perhaps -- fell asleep.

The day from hell began bright and early that morning. Apparently her father had seen it fit to file a massive book order of his own, as one had shown up sometime during the middle of the night. Apparently her father saw nothing wrong with bounding into her room just before the crack of down, rousing her from her much-needed sleep. Apparently her father found that _she_ should be the one to unpack all those tedious textbooks and properly shelve and catalogue them, simply because she was the librarian. Apparently her father did not know about all the extra work and over-time she had been doing over the past couple of days, simply to keep up with the books they _already_ had.

So it was with a remarkably embittered state of mind that she had rolled out of bed and wrestled into her usual shirt, skirt, and cardigan. After managing to stomp into her shoes, she lumbered awkwardly down the hall and into the bathroom so she could brush her teeth and do her hair up in its usual braid. Lastly, she grabbed her glasses from her room and gave them a quick wipe down. She fled the house before her mother or father could press some other kind of chore or favor upon her.

Having skipped breakfast, and lunch when it had rolled around, she was exceedingly hungry when she returned home late that afternoon. During the quiet dinner she shared with her parents, the only thing she could think about as she ravenously scarfed down her meal was all that she had done that day. As it turned out, her father had ordered way more than even she had initially believed him to have, and that was saying something. She had spent the majority of the day unpacking everything, with precious little time for anything else.

That was right. What she had initially thought was going to be a single, tiresome day had evolved into what could only be a grueling week's worth of work. And surely her father would see it fit to wake her up as early as he had done that day. It was no surprise when she excused herself from the table and hurried upstairs, planning on heading to bed immediately.

Before she had so much as sat down on the end of her bed, a knock came at her door. Removing her spectacles and rubbing at the bridge of her nose, she managed a quiet, "Come in."

It was her father. No surprise there. She was slightly startled to find him frowning, however. "You didn't finish." It was a stated as a fact, not a question.

"No," She sighed wantonly, wishing for the first time that he would just drop dead. Dead. That's how she felt at the moment, her limbs more exhausted than even her mind. "I didn't."

His frown seemed to deepen, and she found this very uncharacteristic of her father, a generally jovial man. "Why not?" He demanded. Though his voice was the gentle sort of stern, not a cruel anger, she could not help but feel frightened. He had never acted like this before.

"I'm sorry," She fell back on her pillow, staring up at the ceiling. "I tried, father. Really, I did. I was just so tired…"

His face softened at once, clearly pitying his daughter. However, his words did nothing to raise him back up in her eyes. If anything, they hardened her. "It's okay," He decided, as if such words would soothe her. "I was merely concerned. After all, there's a new shipment arriving every day this week, as big as the one you had today. In light of such new material, I'm afraid we'll have to undergo expansion. The woodcutters are dreadfully busy this time of year, so I'm afraid it's just going to be you and me, my dear."

'You and me'. Yeah, right. More like 'all her'. Averting her gaze so he would not see the fury that sprung up in her usually warm, button eyes, she inwardly seethed at his patronizing chuckle. Without another word, he left the room. Rolling over and curling up into a tight little ball, she used her pillow to muffle her anguished cries. _No rest for the weary_.

* * *

A/N: Again, I note, it takes forever for an update, despite how simple such a chapter should be. At least it wasn't a complete year (and sixteen days, haha). I must confess that originally, I had no intention of including Maria/Mary in this piece. It's not that I don't like her -- rather the opposite, I'm quite fond of her -- but I hadn't intended her to fill up a slot. Actually, Jeff was supposed to take Saturday, but due to increased involvement in the last chapter, that didn't seem very wise. So I thought and thought and thought and finally figured out a way to appropriately convey the meaning of Saturday's line. Therefore, this was dedicated to you, **_Amaretto and Coke_**. It's kind of short, though…So I hope you don't mind. Quality over quantity, after all.

Please Review!


	8. Sabbath's Child

Chocolate freckles peppered rosy cheeks, playful demeanor further enhanced by the wide grin splayed across the young woman's full set of lips. Slender, wanton frame was disguised by masculine garb; a plain yellow shirt beneath the bib of faded denim coveralls. Lithe hands grasped the wicker basket between slightly calloused palms, nimble digits tracing up the sides only to curl tightly around the gnarled handle.

Ann Green eased her way down the dusty pathway, intent on reaching Jack's house before he woke up and had the chance to prepare himself something to eat. It was his birthday, and being the good friend that she was, she had decided to surprise him first thing that morning by making him some breakfast. Before she could go knocking on his door, however, she had some other items to fetch.

She hurried to the summit of Moon Mountain, where Baba and JiJi ran their small restaurant. Thankful that the old couple opened at what could only be the crack of dawn, it did not take her long to make her purchases. Some fifteen minutes later, she emerged from the building, a small package tucked alongside the half-dozen eggs in her basket.

On the way down, she also collected a couple of sprigs of fresh herbs, a few plump mushrooms, several vibrantly-colored pieces of orange fruit, and a small handful of flowers. Whistling a cheery tune to herself, she continued on to Jack's farm. Setting the basket down at her feet, she dropped to her knees and began digging a hole in the earth to the direct left of the bottom porch step. A few well-placed swipes had her fingers scraping the cover of a small box, which she eagerly extracted from the small hole. Popping off the top, she removed the old-fashioned iron key and unlocked the door, returning everything to its proper location before slipping inside the house.

By squinting out into the dark, she was able to determine that Jack was indeed still in bed, fast asleep. Smiling at her luck, she quietly padded across the hardwood floor in direction of the kitchen. Glad that this room was separate from the room in which he slept, she hastened to throw open the curtains above the sink, allowing rays of the still-rising sun to filter in and provide her with the light she would need for her task.

She located the frying pan and proceeded to grease the bottom of it while she waited for the range to heat up. When it was of a suitable temperature, she placed the frying pan atop the foremost burner and deftly cracked two of the six eggs over the pan. Normally she would have used three, but these eggs were unusually large.

While they were cooking, she fetched both of Jiro's bowls and a small bag of dog food out from under the sink, where they were placed each evening after the dog had finished eating and was sent outside for the night. Filling one with cool water from the tap, she dished out some food into the other and set it to the side on the counter. She returned to the stove every couple of minutes to attend to the eggs, but otherwise left them alone to finish cooking.

She removed the orange fruits from the basket next, and spent a moment or so groping about in the drawer's for Jack's juicer. Snatching up a knife once she'd found what she was looking for, the sliced each of the fruits in half and proceeded to milk them over a large pitcher. Tossing in a couple ice cubes when she was done, she set the pitcher in the refrigerator.

The first of the eggs were finished, so she took the time to scrape them from the pan with the large spatula she'd run across in her previous search. Spreading them out across Jiro's dry food, she set the bowl off to the side once more, this time so the eggs could cool.

It did not take her long to whip up the remaining eggs--two each, for the both of them. She began to hurry when she heard stirring from the next room, knowing that Jack was liable to wake up any minute. In a flash, she'd gotten out two dishes and scraped the eggs out onto them, taking special care to arrange the mushrooms and herbs she'd chopped up earlier. Tossing a couple of the dumpling's she bought onto each plate, she loaded everything onto the small serving tray she'd run across.

Hurrying out into the main room, she was just in time to see Jack sitting up in bed. He appeared extremely startled by her presence, but it did not take him long to break out into a grin. Ann returned the sentiment as he tucked his legs underneath him so there'd be room enough for her to set the tray down on the end of the mattress.

Jogging back into the kitchen, she grabbed two glasses from the cabinets and poured them both a glass of juice. Taking both these and some silverware back to Jack, she set herself to opening up the windows while he admired her creations. Lastly, she let his rambunctious dog inside, who immediately got started on the treat she'd left him in the kitchen.

Finally able to plop down next to the tray, she picked up her own tray, immediately shoveling in a mouthful of yellow fluff. "So…" She began, upon swallowing. "Happy birthday?"

Jack stared at her a moment, as if unsure of how to respond. Finally, he began to laugh. "Ann, Ann, Ann…" He shook his head, finally having regained his composure. "What am I going to do with you? All of this for me?"

It was her turn to laugh. "Well, yeah. Your birthday only comes once a year, you know."

He gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment. "That's true, I guess. Thanks, Ann. This… Means a lot to me."

She shrugged. "It was the least I could do to repay you. It always seemed like you spent the better part of the year helping me out of some kind of scrape or jam, so I wanted to show you just how much I appreciated that."

His expression softened. "I knew you appreciated it, Ann. You didn't have to repay me for _anything_."

Another shrug on her part. "I feel better this way."

After a moment more, he gave in to her will and flashed her another grin, this one quite roguish in its delivery. "Well, if you insist…" He wiggled his brows as he reached to pluck a dumpling from his plate and sink his teeth into it.

She snorted with amusement, taking a sip from her glass as she watched him devour his breakfast. On occasion, she would take a small bite of the food she'd prepared for herself, much more interested in watching him than feeding her own stomach.

Jack was… a puzzle. He was a sweet man, very caring. With a subtle frown, she noted that he was also hard-working and a little _too_ devoted to his farm. He'd woken up not ten minutes ago and yet he appeared as if he'd been up all night plowing the fields. He'd always claimed he was too busy to date, but she could tell that a little female companionship was just what the doctor ordered. He needed someone to distract him from his duties from time to time, or else he'd work himself into an early grave.

She let herself laugh at something he'd said, but she was concentrating meanwhile on the little cogs in her head, which had just begun spinning in overtime. She had just the person in mind…

* * *

A/N: I've had the first paragraph of this written out for quite some time. Knew what I wanted to have happen in here, too, but I just couldn't get from point A to point B for some reason or other. But today I sat down and forced this out. About ten minutes into it, I found my comfortable little groove and was able to pump out what I hope is a chapter of fairly decent content. I was a little leery about this at first, because the idea seemed to scream Ann/Jack, which I do not ship. I reached a compromise, however, when I realized that this would make something of a cute prequel-type thing to my full-length, old, and very crappy story, 'Vagabond'. So if you've read that, then you'll know exactly what person Ann had in mind.

Anyway, this is the last chapter! While I enjoyed writing this, I've been in a state of on-again/off-again writer's block for the past several years, so I'm very glad it's over and done with. Hope new and old readers alike enjoyed.

Please Review! 


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